


Welcome To The Show

by SugaKawaKawa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Blood, Gore, Heavy Angst, Hurt Everybody, Hurt Hinata Shouyou, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Sugawara Koushi, Hurt Yamaguchi Tadashi, Kidnapping, Knives, M/M, Original Character(s), Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29044629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugaKawaKawa/pseuds/SugaKawaKawa
Summary: A group of teenagers went missing
Relationships: Ennoshita Chikara/Sugawara Koushi, Nishinoya Yuu/Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51





	Welcome To The Show

**Author's Note:**

> Ships are definitely not going to be a main part of this story, but they will be there.

The man dragged the flat side of the freezing cold metal over Koushi's skin with a sickeningly gleeful grin, only teasing the 18-year-old's flesh with gentle little scrapes of the sharpened edge. Koushi's body was shaking, his every limb quivering, and he felt warm blood trickle down his almost heatless skin from where he was harshly digging his teeth into his bottom lip to stifle the violent sobs that were demanding to be released. 

The screaming ache of the muscles in his arms from their forced position above his head had been almost unbearable only seconds ago, but now it was completely forgotten and replaced with paralyzing fear. He was  _ terrified, _ with heavy dread being a boulder and weighing down his stomach and panic electricuting the veins under his skin. 

The solid metal cuffs, conecting to heavy iron chains, dug against the skin of his bony wrist and he couldn't really tell if more thick crimson was flowing steadily down his pale skin from where iron rubbed hus skin raw or if it was just his imagination.

He pressed his back as hard against the dank, uneven but smooth concrete wall as he could, cowering like a rabbit cornered by a dog, as if it would help. As if he could  _ hide _ from this man, who only chuckled darkly at Koushi's pathetic attempt to protect himself. 

The tall, steroid-boosted man twisted his wrist ever-so-slightly, and the blade finaly sliced Koushi's skin, sliding through the flesh of his cheek under his eye as if it were a heated knife slicing through butter. 

The silver-haired man inhaled sharply, eyes tearing up without his permission as the sting resignated through his body. It felt like a paper cut, quick and painful, but the sting echoed and refused to leave as blood left a stained trail over his grimy skin.

"Please..." He croaked, his throat protesting, voice cracking. He felt one drop of blood splatter onto his bare chest, and then another, and another, until it was collecting and sliding down his body in a bigger group. His own blood felt so warm against his skin, so slick and smooth and sticky against his dirty, cold flesh. It was leaving more red paths along his body, renewing dried crusty remnants left from days prior.

The man smiled again, so brightly in the dimly lit room, but his eyes were darker than the night, empty black holes that consumed everything and left nothing, no compassion or empathy or emotion other than sadistic pleasure. If Koushi had the energy, he would shudder. His knees were shaking with the herculean effort it took to stay standing, and he knew that if he fell the chains keeping his arms raised straight above his head would practically tear his shoulders out of his sockets. 

The man chuckled once again, the sound low and rumbling like a lazy clap of thunder in the distance. "How 'bout, if ya don't pass out, I'll let ya go back to your friends?" 

Koushi's eyes widened hopefully, then closed tightly in a wince. The cut under his eye must have been deeper than he thought, and opening his eye so wide and quick had stretched the skin around it. He swallowed his whimper, but it was difficult to do around the ever-present lump in his throat.

He tried to nod, but the gesture was more a subtle dip of his chin. His eyelids were already getting heavy- the only thing he's eaten in three days was about two tablespoons of some lumpy and putrid-smelling stew, a little chunk of stale bread, and some other man's semen. His body was starting to feel like it was ripped apart, stuffed with lead, then haphazardly stitched together again.

_ And he'd only been in this hell on earth for a week. _ It felt like decades, eons, had passed, and time flowed so painfully and jaggedly slow. The only thing keeping him from thrusting his face and his neck into that knife was the fact that he wasn't the only one who was taken. He knew that one of the doors that lined the hall his mildew and silverfish infested cell was in held his friends, and as long as he knew they were alive, he knew there was a chance for escape. A reason to try.

Koushi felt like such shit. They needed him right now, needed someone to hug them and ask them how they were holding up and keep their hopes as high as they could be in a situation like this, but instead he had fucked up and been dragged away from his kouhai and classmates by his hair, had been a cause for even more of their distress.

Koushi should have kept his fucking mouth shut, should have just nodded and bit his tongue.

"Hah, knew you'd like that," The man drawled, pointed tip of his knife glinting under the weak light of the single light bulb above them while he traced it lightly along Koushi's defined clavicle, once again only teasing the skin and not yet piercing it. "Now, be a good boy and scream real loud for me, yeah?"

Koushi barely had time to register the words before pain exploded in his left shoulder, so intense and all-consuming that his vision went super-nova, bright white overtaking his sight with masaive black dots swimming along the edges. His body convulsed and he  _ screamed, _ so loud and suddenly that his throat felt like it split into two.

He couldn't even register the hot pools of blood suddenly gushing from his shoulder, he could only feel excruciating pain as the blade in his body twisted, mangling flesh and muscle tissue, scraping against his bone.

"Bet that'll teach ya to be grateful, worthless piece of shit. Don't ya dare pass out, or you've got another three days in here. I know Ren wouldn't mind breaking ya a little more." The man yanked the blade out of Koushi's shoulder, laughing mockingly as his whole body lurched with the action. The young man was panting, gasping like a fish out of water, eyes wide and hazy with pain only adultured by shock. 

Koushi's legs finally gave out, and he stumbled, electric pain sending throughout his every nerve as the cuffs jolted his injured shoulder. He sobbed, blood rushing to his head and out of his throbbing wound. His mind was getting increasingly hazy, his vision fuzzy and bordered in black splotches.

The broad, brawny man in front of him grinned, and if it were yesterday, Koushi would have glared at the genuine fucking joy in that grin. But it's not yesterday, and he was just stabbed, and burning tears are blurring his already shaky vision and flowing freely down his dirty face. He sobbed again, and it took his whole body, racking it and forcing him to shudder violently. He's still awake, though, and as he looked up at one of his many captors through tear decorated silver eyelashes, he whimpered weakly. Counciousness was getting increasingly harder to keep a grasp on, but he couldn't survive any more time in this dungeon. He just  _ couldn't, _ and his shoulder was  _ throbbing, _ sending heat flashes throughout his body, and he needed to be there for his suffering friends. They were definitely worried, probably wondering if he was even alive, and he needed them to know that he was okay.

"Please," He managed to rasp the word, his second spoken word all day and it was the same as the first. The man- Koushi only knew two of the mens' names, and this sociopathic creature he hoped would never be one of them- raised an eyebrow.

"Are ya going to be a good boy now,  _ Suga? _ Ya gonna forget about that little feisty streak and take what we give ya?"

Koushi tried to nod frantically, but all he could do was lathargically blink. The man dropped the knife onto the floor- the sound of it clattering echoed around the tiny cell even over Koushi's constant whimpers and pained moans- and grabbed a handful of silver hair, tugging Koushi forcefully to meet his eyes despite his heavy head.

"Next time, it's gonna be one of your friends, got it? Fuckin' behave, or what ya just went through will seem like a paradise compared to what we'll put someome else through, got it?" The man growled, spitting into Koushi's face but the latter barely even noticed. It was taking everything in him to not let the black dots overwhelm him and slip him into a peaceful, painless place. The words that were spoken to him sounded so foreighn, just garbled, slurred noises.

His wounds didn't even hurt anymore. His entire body felt heavy and numb and-

Another spike of pain shot through him as his wrists were released from their prison, but it was wierd. He could feel the pain traveling throughout his body, but it didn't  _ hurt.  _ It was undeniably there, but it was like he was too out of it to even register the fact that what he was feeling was  _ pain. _ Everything was hazy, even as he was grabbed by the back of his neck and dragged out of the cell. Koushi's ears were ringing.

The last thing be remembered was being shoved into the familiar crowded room, and then his vision finally went black.

\--

_ I am 16 years old. I'm 5 feet and almost four inches tall. I have orange hair and dark orange eyes and pale skin. I play volleyball. _

_ I am 16 years old. I'm 5 feet and almost four inches tall. I have orange hair and dark orange eyes and pale skin. I play volleyball. _

_ I am 16 years old. I'm 5 feet and almost four inches tall. I have orange hair and dark orange eyes and pale skin. I play volleyball. _

Hinata Shouyou repeated the statements in his head like a mantra, grounding himself with the basic facts about himself. When his head ceased spinning and he had a grasp on reality once again, when he felt like he was back inside his own body, he dared to look once again at his bloody senpai.

Sugawara was completely and utterly limp, with dark purple and red marks indented into his thin wrists, and there was dark, crusty red blood all over his bare chest and once angelic face and horribly dirty jeans. His gray hair was matted and snarly, and there were barely healed, deep, oozing cuts all over his chest and abdomen even his cheek. 

But the worst part, the part that had made Shouyou go from retching onto the hard concrete floor to full-on nearly dissociating, was the gaping wound on Suga's frail shoulder. It was gushing blood, and Shouyou could see a sliver of white that was definitely bone. They all had been hoping and praying to every god they knew that Sugawara be alive, but now that he was back in their arms, Shouyou still doesn't know.

Suga was currently laying lifeless, back against Daichi's chest, silvery strands plastered onto his forehead and skin shining with sweat. If it wasn't for the perspiration and just barely there subtle rise and fall of his chest, Shouyou would have thought he was dead. Dead. Like Kageyama. Shouyou felt stomach bile threaten to claw its way out of his throat at the reminder of his best friend.

His best friend who is dead now, who was the first of who knows how many of them to die.

Shouyou's eyes tear up as he looks over his senpais, the one who's probably dying and the one who's sobbing over his body. Daichi is frantically pressing against the fresh bleeding wound, and Asahi is hyperventilating.

Yamaguchi is staring, lifeless, and heavy, at thr locked iron door caging them in the small concrete room. The green haired boy had barely done so much as blink since Tsukishima was shot. 

Nishinoya and Tanaka are freaking out, concocting their millionth plan of escape. Shouyou had stopped enthusiastically helping them plan ever since Kageyama had died.

Ennoshita was instructing Daichi on how to stop Suga's bleeding, and was taking his shirt off to rip into shreds. Kinoshita and Narita had died soon after Kageyama, and only a day before Tsukishima.

I am 16 years old. I'm 5 feet and almost four inches tall. I have orange hair and dark orange eyes and pale skin. I play volleyball.

Shouyou didn't know what the hell to do. The shock of their situation was finally wearing off, leaving nothing but fear. He was huddled in the corner, the corner where when they first were thrown in here him and Kageyama had held each other as they plotted ways to escape with Nishinoya and Tanaka. The corner where Suga would hold Shouyou and tell him it's alright.

His arms tighten around his bent knees, pulling his legs flush against his chest. His skin is grimy, none of them had showered since the how many weeks they'd been here, and he felt tears he didn't know had pooled in his eyes leave a clean trail down his cheek.

There wasn't even a volleyball here.

Shouyou didn't know how long he was going to survive, didn't know how long any of then would. It was like their only purpose of being in this wretched place was to die, slow and in elongated suffering.

Kageyama didn't die slowly. Neither did Tsukishima. They were 'rewarded' with quick, painless deaths, a single shot to temple. A scapegoat warning to the rest of them to stay in line.

Shouyou's stomache whined, growling it's plea for any kind of sustinance.

"Suga, Suga, oh god Daichi, D-Daichi, Suga is- his heartbeat is slowing down, oh my god he lost so much blood-"

"Dammit, Asahi, shut up! He's going to be fine, he has to be fine," Daichi's broke at the end.

"Y-yeah, Asahi. It's only a shoulder wound, he'll be fine!" Nishinoya piped in, voice just as weak as Daichi's and almost crumbling under the weight of the forced optimism.

"No, it's not," Ennoshita corrected grimly. "There's cuts all over his body, and we have close to no way to prevent infection. He's lost a lot of blood, he's malnourished, and his body temperature is dangerously low."

"You talk like he's already dead," Nishinoya snarled. He was standing, pacing, but had pivoted on his feet to accuse Ennoshita.

Ennoshita didn't even raise an eyebrow. "He might may as well be."

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me thoughts!!! Comments and kudos would absolutely make my day!
> 
> I can't wait for you to see where this goes, I bet it will be unexpected >:)


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